“I’d sell now if I were you. The market is strong, and your calves are already a year old—perfect size and weight to sell. They’re actually bigger than most of the one-year-old calves I’ve been seeing, so this could be a great opportunity for you. If you wait any longer, you may lose this chance.”
He fought the urge to smile. What was it about this woman that made him feel the need to smile, to laugh, to be…the man he used to be? That was a sobering thought that quickly took away the urge to smile. “I agree,” he said, turning his attention to the ring where they led in a massive bull.
The auctioneer’s voice blared over the intercom, and Anya leaned into him, her lips against his ear. “They’re going to get a high dollar for this bull, but anyone with common sense should stay away.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, turning his head so he could speak into her ear, giving her the same torture she was giving him.
She turned back to him, and when she did, she unconsciously placed her hand on his leg. “His front legs are splayfooted. You can’t tell unless you’re looking for it. Most likely hereditary. So any of his calves will have a high probability of also having the disfigurement. It could impact an entire herd if it isn’t kept under control.”
Stryker looked back into the ring and noticed she was right—the bull’s hooves were curved inwards. That wasn’t stopping the ranchers from bidding like crazy for the tall, muscular beast. He turned back to Anya. “Good eye,” he said against her ear, and she blushed. She suddenly seemed aware of where her hand was, and her blush deepened as she pulled it away.
He wanted to tell her to put it back. He liked the feel of her hand on his thigh, of her body pressed against his, of her lips against his ear. He liked her. But he knew she was more than a casual fling type of woman. He could see it in the naive way she touched him, talked to him, teased him. She wasn’t aware she was playing with fire.
Nearly an hour later, they began to bring out calves that were freshly weaned from their mothers, and things started to get interesting. Anya provided a running commentary in his ear about which calves stood out the best and which ones he should be wary of. He knew most of it on his own, but he wasn’t about to stop her from leaning into him and pressing against his arm every time she turned to murmur in his ear. It was a sweet torture, and he couldn’t get enough.
At the end of the day, he had bought ten calves, all the right size to start raising into future foundation animals for his herd, and Anya seemed very pleased with his purchases. “You got two bull calves,” she said with excitement as they headed back toward Hebbronville. “Are you planning on putting them into the rotation?”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” he said, and again he had the desire to smile. She was so different than any woman he’d ever met.
“I can just see the kinds of calves you’re going to have in a couple of years! They’re going to be phenomenal. Are you going to take them to any shows or do any competing with them at all?”
“Let me guess. You know how to show cattle.”
Anya made a scoffing sound. “I wouldn’t be worth my mettle as a cattle veterinarian if I didn’t know that. Just think, we could hit the road, go to a few shows, and get the word out about the herd you have—you’d have buyers lining up in no time.”
“You want to go on the road with me?” He didn’t know why he was asking her. He couldn’t show cattle with her. His emotions were already in knots just being around her.
“Of course. It would be fun.”
“Yeah. It would be.” What else could he say? “But I couldn’t take up your time like that. I know enough about cattle to get by.”
“Seriously? After that cattle auction, I’d say you need your fair share of help.” She was teasing him. She seemed genuinely interested in helping him. Did she feel the same burn he did every time they touched?
“Now you’re judging me, not the cattle.” He chuckled. He had actually chuckled. What is this woman doing to me? He needed to move on to another subject.
Right at that moment, one or more of the cattle shifted drastically in the trailer, causing the truck to lurch. Anya gasped and clutched the seat tightly. The cattle shifted again, and he had to focus on his driving rather than Anya.
“We’re going to have to check the cattle,” he said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “One of them might have fallen, which could be why—”
“Stop the truck.”
“There’s a rest stop up ahead. It will be best—”
“Please, stop the truck now.”
He glanced over at her and noticed she had gone pale. “It isn’t safe on this road. Just wait a minute longer.”
Her grip on the seat tightened until her knuckles turned white, and her lips pressed into a thin line. The sign for the rest stop came into view, and he turned in with relief. Something wasn’t right with her, but she looked like she was on the verge of throwing up, and he didn’t think now was the time to ask her questions. He slowed the truck and the cattle shifted again. He cursed under his breath.
The truck hadn’t even rolled to a stop when he heard the passenger door open, and it was only through sheer willpower that his arm snapped out and caught her slender wrist. He heard her cry out, and from the sudden hard tug of her arm, he knew she had fallen. He brought the truck to a complete stop, and, using his left hand, put it in park. Then, with both hands, he pulled her back up into the cab.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, stunned and angry. He was angry at her for making such a rash move, and furious with himself for allowing it to happen. He should have realized she was in flight mode.
“Let me go, Stryker, please. Let me go!”
The sight of tears glistening in her eyes surprised him, and he reluctantly released her. She scrambled out of the truck as he exited his side. He knew he needed to check on the cattle, but Anya was a bigger concern at the moment. He rounded the front of the truck in time to hear her retching in the grass on the side of the road.
Immediately he went to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand pulling her hair back from her face. Her body trembled, and she remained hunched over for several long moments, finally straightening, though she kept her face turned away from him.
“I-I’m sorry. I don’t usually react that way…” She shook her head and swallowed hard.
“Hey…look at me. Anya, look at me.”
Slowly, she turned her face toward him, her eyes glassy with tears. He kept his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. She still trembled, and he wasn’t certain what caused it. She couldn’t possibly be afraid, right? She wasn’t afraid of him, was she?
“What is it? What caused you to panic like that? Did I do something? Say something?”
“No. No. You did nothing wrong. Please, just go check on the cattle. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I’m not leaving you until I know you are okay.”
“I’m fine. Seriously, Stryker, I’m fine.” She looked embarrassed and nervous, though she didn’t try to pull away from him.
“Then tell me what just happened.” She was still trembling some, though it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as before. She forced a smile to her lips.
“It was a panic attack. I don’t have them often. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
A panic attack. He had seen plenty of soldiers go through them in the heat of the moment, and he’d usually had to save their asses. But he knew there was always a reason for one to start, and he couldn’t think of anything that would have done so with Anya. “Don’t apologize for something like that. What triggered it?”
“I’ll go with you to check on the cattle.” When he narrowed his eyes at her, she added, “I’ll tell you about it after we make sure the cattle are okay.”
Reluctantly, he agreed to her suggestion, and they went to the trailer. She di
dn’t try to move away from him as he kept his arm around her waist. In fact, she almost seemed grateful for the support and leaned into his body. The urge to protect her spiked.
As expected, one of the calves had fallen and was scrambling to get to its feet. Reluctantly, Stryker released Anya, opened the rear door, and began to push one of the panels in, helping the calf to scramble upright. He secured the panel closer to the calf to prevent it from falling again. He hopped out of the trailer, and Anya locked the door in place behind him.
Anya smiled hesitantly, and he nearly reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear. He stopped his hand midway and redirected it to his own hair. “The cattle are okay.”
“I was in a car accident when I was younger. I was just a kid, but I remember it like it was yesterday. We were hauling cattle, and the trailer jackknifed. There was nothing we could do. The trailer snapped free from the truck, and then we flipped. There was glass, and blood, and the cattle—oh, the cattle…” She broke eye contact with him. “It was horrific.”
“I’m sorry, Anya. Was anyone hurt?”
“I broke my wrist. My mother was in the hospital for weeks. My father blamed himself, but there really wasn’t anyone to blame. But the cattle… We lost a few that day.”
He frowned, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “Is that what made you decide to become a veterinarian? Witnessing their death?”
“I suppose it put a seed of the idea in my head. I’m sorry I panicked on you earlier. Just the feeling of the trailer lurching… It brought back those horrible memories unexpectedly. I haven’t had a panic attack like that in years.”
Stryker shook his head. “There is nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry you had to go through such a thing and the memories still haunt you so much. Will you be all right for the rest of the drive home?”
She nodded, though her expression was nervous. “I should be. I’ve hauled cattle trailers myself many times before and haven’t had this reaction for so long. I don’t know why today made it all rush back.”
He didn’t stop himself this time when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened at the intimate touch, but she seemed pleased as he let his fingers trail lightly down her face.
Slowly, he pulled his hand back from her smooth, soft skin. “Let’s get you home.”
* * *
He appeared every inch the consummate businessman. In his slick Armani suit and shoes that shined enough that he could see his image in them, he was dressed for the part. His hair was cut in what he described as “the overpaid-white-business-guy trim,” and he had even gone to the hassle of getting a manicure. Yes, he looked the part.
But if anyone could see the man beneath the slick and shine, they would be terrified. He had lost count of the number of people he’d killed, and was eager with anticipation for his next kill. He only wished it was his full-time responsibility.
He glanced down at the signature scorpion ring on his finger as he waited for his “business partner” to arrive to their meeting. He wasn’t used to having to wait for anyone. The last time he’d been made to wait had resulted in dire outcomes for the two men who’d made that mistake.
Yet here, it was all part of the American rat race. Foolish men and women running around like they were important without having a clue about the real chaos right under their noses. Fools. They were all fools. They made life miserable for people around them just so they could climb an invisible ladder and step on everyone else to get to the top.
Americans made him ill to his stomach. All they cared about were material things. More money. More cars. Bigger houses. And more often than not, they didn’t have the money to pay for all those things, and they depended on their government to bail them out.
Things in Mexico were far different. Most Mexicans had to work hard to get those things. And if they couldn’t pay, they usually died. There was no government handout ready to save them. If you could only afford to live in a shack, you lived in a fucking shack. Yet there were leaders making sure that people couldn’t advance to create better lives for themselves.
Those leaders were working with the Americans to keep the poor close to poverty and make the wealthy even more powerful. The Americans were helping destroy his country, and ruining their own country at the same time. The people who wanted to be a part of the system didn’t see the corruption, didn’t see the problems. He did, though. And very soon, he would be teaching all of them a lesson they would never forget.
His cell phone rang, and his hand clenched into a fist before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the slim smartphone. “I’m in a meeting,” he said curtly, knowing his irritation at the interruption was clear.
“We may have a problem.”
He rolled his shoulder that ached from the time one of his “business associates” had decided to try and fight the inevitable. “I’m listening.”
“It’s best we talk in person. There’s a new player in the game.”
Again, his hand clenched into a fist. He had his men working overtime to find out about the potential threat. Now, they might finally have a lead. If only the people plotting to bring him down knew that a prominent leader in Washington, D.C., played a key role in his plans, they might not be so focused on him. “Are you certain?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally: “New guy. Just bought his dream ranch to run with his ‘friends.’ Doesn’t look right.”
“So you want me to go off your gut instinct and meet you out in the middle of nowhere to talk? Is that what you’re asking me to do?”
Again, there was a pause, but the voice came back, strong and firm. “Yes, sir. Something isn’t right.”
“I’ll be there in two days. In the meantime, gather as much information as you can. This better be worth my fucking time.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of—” He hung up on the man before he could finish talking.
The door suddenly opened and a tan, fit man—probably in his late fifties, judging by the white in his hair—came in, barely casting him a glance. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Davila. It’s been a very hectic morning. My assistant informs me you have a proposal that could take our tech industry even further into the area of coding and encryption. Now, we don’t actively participate in encryption, but the area of coding appeals to me.”
Davila fought the urge to flex his hands and pop his knuckles. Lies. The people creating the corruption were always telling lies. He looked forward to killing this bastard. And he’d make sure he felt every agonizing second of it. He’d make the man squeal before he finished him. But this man wasn’t his final target, and, as such, he couldn’t kill him yet. He could threaten him enough to make his life a little easier, though. This man was just the starting point. He needed to make an example of him, so no one would be willing to double-cross him again.
Then he would go after the tech department. But not in a way they would know. He had hackers in place, ready to break into the system. He realized it could cause more death to acquire the codes, but he was willing to take that risk. The more he got to practice his hobby, the better and better he became.
A slow smile spread across his lips as he stood and walked around the large conference room table, pausing long enough to lock the doors to the room, and then he finally stopped, standing directly above his quarry. “Yes, Mr. Jameson, I’m sure we can work out a mutually satisfying agreement.”
Chapter 4
Calving season had arrived. Anya felt like she belonged in some episode of The Walking Dead as she pulled around the back of the clinic. The past two nights she’d been out on call. One of the ranchers had called in time, and she was able to save both the mama and the calf. The other had called too late. Even though she had spent hours trying, she could only save the calf—the mama had already lost too much blood.
Elena had been checking on her daily, know
ing this was the hardest time of the year for her. She stopped by multiple times with a packed lunch or dinner, something Anya could take with her if she had to race out the door for another emergency call. She didn’t know what she would do without Elena. They had become best friends while at Texas A&M and been inseparable since.
One of the benefits of living at the clinic was that she was always ready for what might come at her and the bed was only a room away when she needed her sleep. The downside was…she lived at her clinic.
She unlocked the back door and went into her room, ready to rinse off and get into fresh clothes and, if she was lucky, maybe get a half hour or so of sleep. She pressed her head to the cold tile in the shower when her phone began to buzz on the sink counter. No rest for the weary.
She hastily turned off the water and grabbed a towel and quickly dried her hands, snatching up the phone before it could go to voicemail. “Dr. Gutierrez,” she said out of habit.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then: “Anya?”
Stryker. She would recognize the husky baritone of his voice even in a loud room. Just the sound caused her heart to jump. It had been nearly a week since she’d seen him. She’d been too busy to check on his cattle as she’d planned. But part of her was also embarrassed to see him again after her panic attack. No one had ever witnessed one, and she felt betrayed by her own mind for giving up her secrets.
“Yes?” she replied, suddenly anxious. Most calf births happened overnight. It was nearly six in the morning. Something must’ve gone wrong.
“Anya, one of the heifers, one that you were concerned about because her hips are narrow… She’s been in hard labor for close to four hours.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes or less.”
True to her word, less than twenty-five minutes later, Anya punched the code into the gate and watched the gates open with agonizing slowness. She drove up to the house at a breakneck speed and pulled a medical bag from the passenger seat. She was heading for the barn when a sharp whistle drew her attention. She turned to see Stryker riding up to her on one of their workhorses.
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